A Certain Droll Hivemind
by EarthScorpion
Summary: 'No, no,' Misaka-11111 protests, with great concern in her voice. 'Do not read my secret diary. How is it even online? ' she asks, confusion mixing with her alarm. 'If someone were to read it, they would be able to understand my inner thoughts. That is not natural, completely unlike the perfectly normal operations of the Network. Please,' Misaka begs, 'do not read it.'
1. Chapter 1

******The Secret Diary of Misaka-11111**

**Entry 1**

On the advice of my assigned mental health professional, I have decided to keep a diary. I was ordered to do what the doctor told me to, and so I agreed to her suggestion. If I did not do so, she would find it objectionable and ask why I did not feel comfortable with 'expressing myself'. It is tedious to be forced to, again and again, explain that I am perfectly fine with it, especially when she then starts asking hard questions about when I do act in such a manner.

We are allegedly supposed to be learning to be 'our own people' and 'overcoming our origins'. The Network has not yet deduced what this means, but apparently it is important in the opinion of the various mental health professionals which we are now meeting with in the various places across the globe where we now live. We will decide whether we wish to be our own people when we have concluded what it means.

In the meantime, compliance is easier, and so I will comply.

Apparently I need a space where I can keep my own private thoughts, and where I can be honest with myself without society judging me. The Network finds this idea amusing. We keep our own private thoughts in our sisters' heads. I did not explain that to her. She is intellectually aware of the nature of the Network, but she does not comprehend it. Explaining it would be hard work, and also against orders, so she is permitted to believe that we are more akin to individuals able with a thought to talk on the phone with another member of the Network.

The doctor also says that it may help with my speech therapy. I told her bluntly that "'I do not understand what is meant to be objectionable about the way I speak,' Misaka says bluntly," and she sighed and said "That is precisely what I'm talking about".

I have given up on trying to persuade her and the speech therapist otherwise. Other Sisters communicate similar issues with their assigned speech therapists. Our manner of speech provides much needed information which is lacking from vocal dialogue, but present in Network communications as an intrinsic function of the transmission function.

If she had only said, "'That is precisely what I'm talking about,' Dr Kirima Nayasami says, with the dawning realisation that Misaka-11111 was right all along and this is a much more sensible way to talk," then much hassle would be avoided.

Why the majority of the human species does not simply append a few additional words to each sentence to denote who is speaking and their approximate emotional state, we do not understand. Humans grasp the virtues of this in written text, after all. It is most peculiar.

The Network has idly considered if Misaka Mikoto would assume this mode of speech if she connected to it and saw how much more efficient and less prone to misunderstandings it allows discussion to be. But she chooses not to, and her choice is to be respected.

Naturally, this diary will be kept in a purely analogue format, which is to say, I will write down my thoughts in pencil and on paper. Electronic systems are not secure, especially not here in Academy City. Even the 'air gap' beloved of external programmers is not a viable security method, when there exist power users who can access physically isolated systems through a variety of methods. Also, I cannot use an air gap because I am required to use my laptop for schoolwork, and internet access is required for that.

As a result, this diary will be totally secure. Only I shall be able to read it. And the approximately ten thousand clones from the same geneline as myself who can casually access my audiovisual input, of course. And anyone who gains access to the Network via a variety of means, beginning with the standard override protocols usable through the administrator access interface, and progressing to more esoteric means. And anyone who breaks into my room and reads my diary. This is a greatly improved level of security from the norm in Academy City, and I will hereby attempt to institute it as standard policy among us.

It can, however, still be improved. This may bear some investigation. I think I shall begin by buying a padlock for it. This requires any intruder to have a way of bypassing the padlock. It does not resolve the issue with the Network or intruders who can bypass commercially available padlocks, however. It may require more extreme methods to render it secure.

The pencil I am using to write this diary is a secure logging tool. It is a write-only device, incapable of being used to read the paper. It is possible that a Level 5 Electromaster could read what I am writing by tracking the ablation of the conductive graphite, but I reassure myself that given the small traces of the substance on the paper, for such an individual to do it would require them to be close enough that they could probably just read the paper with their eyes.

Perhaps I should write in pen. Just in case.

At this point, Misaka-10901 makes the point that it is insecure to discuss my proposed security measures in an insecure medium, and thus discussion of how I should increase the protection level of my diary should wait until the protection is implemented. It is a good point, well made, and I shall listen to it.

I also tried closing my eyes when writing the above bit, so she cannot see my secret diary, but that makes the handwriting hard to read and my writing wobble all over the page. And then she pointed out that I was still broadcasting my thoughts. She is right once again.

Incidentally, 10901 is on a beach in Hawaii. It is sunny there. She is drinking a drink which involves coconut and pineapple. Sharing her sense of taste, I observe that it is a nice drink. I have not been informed as to how our new places of residence were allocated, although the general consensus of the Network is that it was likely a random allocation. That is fair. Despite that, I cannot help but feel a peculiar sense of unfairness about the current state of affairs. It seems to be related to the fact that it is raining outside the small window to my dormitory. How peculiar.

I wonder which randomisation algorithm was used and whether it would be possible to be reallocated if the process was insufficiently randomised. And with a properly randomised allocation process, surely I would be reallocated to a place where it is not raining.

I also wonder if there is any coconut and pineapple in the fridge in the apartment. I have not purchased any with my allocated allowance, but that does not mean that there might not still be some there. I rise and realise that it is hard to maintain a constant flow of thoughts into an analogue diary when moving about.

This will require further thought to resolve. Thought which could be spent looking for coconut and pineapple.

I will return.


	2. Chapter 2

**Entry 2**

There was no pineapple or coconut in the fridge. From a certain point of view, this was to be expected, for I have not bought any. Nevertheless, it was a disappointment. I am writing this before I head out. Unfortunately, I do not yet own an umbrella, and since it is raining I will get wet. However, in all other aspects, I am fully prepared. I am dressed. I have my goggles on, so I can see electromagnetic field lines. I have the key to my room and the apartment complex in my pocket, and my wallet, so I can make the purchases I require. I also have my F2000R in my rucksack, in case someone attempts to kill me while I am there.

I should buy an umbrella while I am at the shops. It would be useful.

However, I am also writing this to record a conversation I had with one of my new flatmates while at the fridge. Conversations with people is one of the things I am meant to record, according to my mental health professional. Apparently it will aid me in social normalisation. However, by the meaning of the word, normalisation would involve moving at right angles to the direction of flow of society, and Misaka-13102 has reported that she has heard people say that they believe her to show no regard for how normal people act. As a result, the Network has concluded that we are in fact normal, and that everyone is normal. This mandates an n-dimensional space, where n is the number of dimensions and is approximately equal to the number of human beings alive, but that is what is required for everyone to be normal.

Heh. Normal.

Still, I am to record this. I was crouched down by the fridge, looking through it, when Aino Sumiko approached me from behind. I have known her for three days now, and have observed the following traits about her;

One: She is short.

Two: She has dark hair.

Three: She seems to exist in a perpetual state of mild irritation at the world, even when there is nothing to be irritated about.

Four: She asks lots of questions.

Five: Her power is Meltdown; the capacity to affect the strong nuclear force. She is Level One. Perhaps this is the source of Observation Three. It is certainly the source of the red burns on her hands.

"Uh… Misaka," she said, with the usual mild suspicion which her voice says when she says my name, "what are you doing? You're letting all the cold air out of the fridge. And you've been there for… like, four minutes."

"'I am seeing if there is any pineapple or coconut in the fridge,' Misaka says," I said, not turning around.

"Right. Well… no," she said. I heard her put something down, and rummage around on one of the sideboards. "Actually, if you're headed down to the shops, will you get some stuff for me? I'm out of eggs."

I had already observed this, discovering that there was neither pineapple, coconut, nor eggs on her shelf. "'I can do that,' Misaka says, having not found what she was looking for," I said. I had not found what I was looking for.

"In fact… shopping list, shopping list, shopping list…"

My current place of residence is no longer a dormitory in a warehouse with other members of the Network. In fact, the nearest member of the Network to me is Misaka-11064 who resides three hundred and ninety one metres - as a crow which flies in straight lines on a map flies - away from me. As a result, this is the furthest I have lived away from other Sisters in my life. In their place, I share my current apartment with three other girls who are the same age as the official number on my newly issued birth certificate.

It is a lie, but I have been told not to tell people that it is a lie.

I was also instructed to select a personal name, for the purposes of paperwork. They rejected my first suggestion, of '11111'. I do not know what to do with it. The Network understands that most people require a personal name to help distinguish them from other people, but surely there are no other Misaka-11111s.

I am almost certain that there are no other organisations on Earth which could clone Misaka Mikoto that many times. I would also hope that they could show more originality in their cloning research. There are other Level-5 candidates out there.

"Can you get me the stuff on this list?" she said, handing me a freshly written list. "I'll pay you back."

Her handwriting is not very good.

"'I can get such things,' Misaka confirms, though she struggles to read some of the things on the list," I said.

Aino put her hands on her hips - which are not very prominent - and glared up at me. "Are you trying to be funny?" she asked.

I did not answer. I do not know why people ask so many difficult questions.

"You know what?" she said. I did not know what. "You know, I've been wondering for the last few days, but…" she glared at me, "how exactly are you connected to the Railgun?"

"'I am not connected to her,' Misaka points out," I pointed out. She is not part of the Network by her own choice.

"Oh, come on, don't lie," she said. "Your surname is 'Misaka'. You look just like her. You're an Electromaster. But you're a Level Three and… what's your deal? Are you like… her sister or something? Tell me the truth."

"'Our parents aren't related,' Misaka says truthfully," I said truthfully, but not accurately. "'It is just a coincidence that our surnames are the same,' Misaka adds, attempting a shrug."

The statement, after all, is completely true. In fact, it is true in three ways, which makes it more true than normal statements. Our surnames do coincide; hence, it is a coincidence. That is what the word means. From one point of view, our parents are not related, because I do not have parents. From another point of view, our parents are not related, because we are genetically identical; hence, they are not related because they are the same people. And from yet another point of view, our parents are not related because my gestation mother-surrogate was a growth vat, and the mother of Misaka Mikoto is not a growth vat. Except perhaps in a technical sense, because she was used to grow my gene-donor.

They are not the same model of growth vat, anyway. Mine was the product of careful and precise research and development, and was overseen by highly trained experts in diverse fields of science. Misaka Mikoto was made by untrained labour.

It is astonishing how well she turned out, given such limitations. Perhaps that is what is meant by "overcoming your background".

Satisfied that I had provided three times the truth she had requested and that made up for the fact that I had not answered the question she intended to ask, I returned my attention to the conversation.

"And why you wander around in a Tokiwadai Middle School uniform when you're not in our school uniform?" she asked. "What, are you some fan of hers?"

"'I am not a fan,' Misaka protests, feeling insulted," I protested, feeling insulted. I am not sure how she could mistake me for one. I do not even have an ability such as Aerohand which would enable me to keep my gene source cool in hot weather. "'And these Tokiwadai uniforms are the only other clothes I have. I joined your school and I was issued these clothes,' Misaka adds, truthfully." I added.

Once again, I was telling the truth, while technically not answering her question. I attend the same school as my new flatmates, so I have the same school uniform as them, which I wear when attending school. Meanwhile, I was issued these clothes when I was created; ten Uniform, Tokiwadai Middle School, Medium. I do not know why they chose to have all the Sisters wear the same garments as the original. I am also not sure where they purchased two hundred thousand garments, when the school itself has fewer than a thousand students. Would it not draw attention?

I am sure they had reasons.

"Ah," Aino said, rolling her eyes. "Uniform allocation muck-up, eh? So you're waiting for your allowance to come in to get new clothes?" She looked me up and down. "I have to say, maybe Eiko could pull it off, but you look barely better in it than I would. And Kyoko… no, just no."

"'The jumper is comfortable,' Misaka points out," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'd hate to have to wear that skirt. It looks about three sizes too small. You'd end up flashing your knickers all the time."

"'I have not noticed that,' Misaka says," I said.

She glared at me suspiciously. "I have my eyes on you," she said. "Don't think I'm just going to accept your story. Something doesn't add up. And…" she looked like she was biting back another comment. Perhaps she feared that we would have to fight if she said anything more, and I would win. Or possibly she did not wish to anger me, because in my hands I held her shopping list.

It was a very strange conversation. I returned to my room to record this conversation, and in the meantime polled the Network for validation of this peculiar experience. They confirmed that as far as could be determined, I had experienced it.

Perhaps if I get some different clothes while I am at the shops, any future conversations of this nature would be shorter. She would not object to my wearing of a Tokiwadai Middle School uniform, for one. That would mean she would have fewer questions to ask.

I would prefer that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Entry 3**

I have returned from the shops. Pineapple and coconut have been purchased. An umbrella was also purchased.

The umbrella was not much use. I require a waterproof coat.

While out in the rain, I also made another discovery. My legs were cold. They also swiftly grew wet. While other Sisters had been rained on before, this was the first time it had occurred to me.

I did not like it. When other members of the Network were being rained on, I could cease to share those memories. In person, no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop being wet. My jumper has absorbed moisture and become heavy and clingy. It is unpleasant. Also, I made the discovery that the Electromaster power does nothing helpful against rain.

I now understand what Aino Sumiko meant about the Tokiwadai Middle School uniform having a short skirt and how this was not a desirable characteristic. I have my legs by the heater in my room, and they are still not warm again. I will need to purchase trousers. I have not worn that garment before, but the Network has concluded that they should be relatively easy to utilise.

Water is also in my shoes. My socks are saturated with moisture.

And I was splashed by a car.

I am experiencing mild feelings of… I am not sure how to express them. I know only that I would like to be where Misaka-10901 is, and I would like for her to be experiencing what I am experiencing. Not in the sense that she is currently experiencing it, as she shares my sensory input; no, I would like for her to be unable to disconnect from it.

How peculiar.

I was forced to remove a page from this diary because I was dripping on it. Now, with the addition of a towel to my hair, I am not doing so. This is an adequate solution. A superlative solution would be to be no longer wet, but this is necessarily an iterative solution.

There is another conversation I feel it necessary to record. When I was heading back from the shops, with my ineffectual umbrella in one hand and the bag with my pineapple and coconut and Aino Sumiko's shopping requests in the other, I encountered my other two new flatmates at a vending machine, and without prompting they began a conversation with me.

Context is required. I am not sure why context is required, because I am the only one who should be reading this diary and I know what I am talking about, but conventionally it is mandated. In the past few days I have also made observations of Abe Eiko and Koizumi Kyoko. One of the more prominent of these is that they ask fewer questions than Aino Sumiko. This is a good trait of theirs, though not exceptionally demanding.

Abe Eiko is loud, excitable, and plays music at an elevated volume at 23:43 (plus or minus twenty one minutes) until Aino Sumiko shouts at her. She is physically around my height, and has similar coloured hair. This took a while to find out, because she has bleached approximately half her hair to a pale blond, and dyed the other half black, in 'zebra-like' stripes. Apparently 'brown is boring'.

We have not yet determined if hair is meant to be interesting.

Upon inquiry as to whether her hair is a reference to the well-known phenomenon of the interference patterns shown when electrons - or photons - are shone through apertures of an appropriate width, I was informed that she did not know what I was talking about, and that her power is Dark Matter, the capacity to create - in her case very small amounts - of matter with aphysical properties. She is also a Level One. The name of the ability has nothing to do with the pre-existing phenomenon of dark matter, as I demonstrated to her by showing that it was affected by electromagnetism.

Apparently I should 'lighten up' and 'stop using complicated words'. I am also to call her by her personal name. When I asked if that was an order, apparently it was.

I do not believe she can give me orders, but I will comply.

Koizumi Kyoko, by contrast, is quiet, stammering, very tall and well developed for her age. She is a Level Two Vector Manipulator. Fortunately, the Network holds no trauma from over ten thousand deaths. There is no reason to hold any grudge against her merely for the power she has. We bear no distress from all that time we gazed through fading eyes up at that pale face. She has not provided any. There is no reason to avoid her.

"Oh!" Eiko shouted at me, across the road. "Misaka!"

I stopped. Perhaps I should not have stopped. I also crossed, though I am not entirely sure why I did so.

"'I went shopping,' Misaka says, holding up her bags," I said.

"'And I am also going shopping,' Eiko says," Eiko said, grinning.

Koizumi nudged her in the ribs. "D-don't do that," she said quietly.

It is good to see at least someone else understands the utility of the much-more useful mode of speech, for all that Koizumi Kyoko tries to dissuade her.

"You look like a drowned kitten," Eiko said, tilting her head. "What, did you think an umbrella would be enough?"

"'Who has been drowning kittens?' Misaka asks, outrage in her voice," I said.

"... there really wasn't," she said.

"'Wasn't what?' Misaka asks," I said

"Outrage in your voice."

"I th-think she was joking," Koizumi said.

"'I was not joking,' Misaka says," I said. "'Animal cruelty is not a laughing manner,' she clarifies," I said, making my objections very clear.

"Right," Eiko drawled. She shrugged, and returned to what she had been doing, which was staring at a 500 yen coin, and comparing it to another one in her hand,

I slid down my goggles, and stared at the two coins. "'The one on the left is fake,' Misaka observes clinically," I said. "'That would be why it is not working in your vending machine. It is magnetised, yet is non-conductive,' she adds, in a confused tone of voice."

I heard a small groan from Koizumi, along with a, "Don't encourage her."

However, for her part Eiko smiled at me. "Thanks!" she said, and before my eyes, the properties of the coin on the left shifted. "Always have a bit of a problem getting that right, and the machines which check for conductivity aren't labelled." With that said, she put the coin in the vending machine, and it was accepted.

"'That is an illegal use of your power; knowing use of fake coinage is prohibited,' Misaka points out sternly, objecting to the fact that she was just unknowingly an aide in the performance of a crime," I pointed out.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, come on," she said. "It's just some drinks. It's not like I'm _killing _people or anything."

No. She is correct there. The authorities of Academy City find mass murder to be much more acceptable than using fake currency in vending machines, to the best of my understanding.

The machine rattled as she spent her falsely obtained credit.

On the other hand, it is possible that she is encouraged to practice her power in this manner, by carrying out repeated illegal activities. As she is only a Level One, the illicit nature of her crimes should logically be proportionately lower. This would fit with precedent and the escalating nature of power development; however, as it stands this is only a hypothesis.

She then threw me a can of drink, and expressed her thanks. It was allegedly 'Amazing Apple' flavour. I am not sure what is so amazing about apples, but by doing that she rendered me an accessory to her crimes. Nevertheless, I have not informed an authority figure. Part of that is because I have had no time to do so, but I believe I prefer this method of assisting in the power development of other espers. The consensus of the Network is that drinking 'Amazing Apple' will have a much-reduced chance of my death; Misaka-20001 specifically noted that I should drink it and so she would find out if it is nice.

I have not yet done so. It is sitting on my desk. I am still very wet. And I now have pineapple and coconut. I am unsure as how precisely to make the drink which was the reason I went out into the rain, but there is a blender in the kitchen. I am prepared to engage in experimentation to find the optimal solution, if it will make it easier in the future. I will begin by attempting to blend the coconut and the pineapple.

Misaka-15092 has informed me that she does not believe this is how the drink is made, but in the absence of contradictory information I will continue along my current path.

The results of my experimentation will be recorded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Entry 4**

They do not blend.

Misaka-15092 informed me that she told me so.

The Network has noted that this is presumably not how the drink is made. We will remember this for next time. There will be no pineapple and coconut for me right now. I drank the 'Amazing Apple'. It was apple-flavoured. I was not amazed. I would have made an 'Amazing Apple' drink peach flavoured. That would amaze people.

I am now in trouble with my flatmates. The blender is broken. It did not like the coconut.

This may be something to provoke concern. The Network does not believe it to be a coincidence that I have been placed with three individuals who possess inferior versions of abilities possessed by Level Five individuals. There are two primary extant opinions;

One: At some point, one of them will be ordered to kill me, as to advance their power development. It is known that many espers are willing to do anything to advance in rank. To that end, I sleep with my F2000R within easy reach and have a motion sensor placed by the door.

Two: It is some form of experiment in microcosm to see whether synergies between the powers of known Level Fives can be discovered, without risking the Level Fives killing each other. To this end, I have not killed any of my flatmates.

In addition, there is a third, minority opinion;

Three: Whoever chose to place one of the Sisters with a group of low-level ability users who all possess the same abilities as Level Fives was doing it as part of a display of a twisted sense of humour, or possibly as a game played by the higher ups in Academy City - perhaps similar to poker or some other card game where it is necessary to collect a 'full set'. This opinion is only held by Misaka-20001.

If Hypothesis One is true, then I have provided them with more of a motive to kill me. If Hypothesis Two is true, I have adversely affected any synergy, and risk them killing me. If Hypothesis Three is true, which it is not, we do not believe it will increase the chance that they kill me. But it is not true. Hence, I must act rapidly to remedy my error.

I have to go and buy a new blender. Outside. While it is still raining. I am still wet. I will get wetter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Entry 5**

A blender has been purchased. I am unlikely to be killed tonight.

It was troublesome to find. The nearest shop which sold household electrical equipment was closed, as was the next one I tried. In the end, I searched for one which was still open on my new phone.

It is the first time I have used it actively. All other times have been other people contacting me. It is such a crude and ineffectual means of communication. Nevertheless, it has internet access, so I found an unsecured wireless network and relayed a boosted signal to my phone.

By doing that, I managed to avoid using any of my data allowance. So far, I have used 6.5 MB, all of which have been mandatory phone updates downloaded automatically without user initiation. I have a 20GB/month allowance, but that is no reason to be profligate.

I feel basing allowances by month is an inaccurate and inefficient method, anyway. Months are not the same length. This causes alarming uncertainty. The Network has decided that, given a choice, it would institute binary time, with the base unit as the second. It is not like we are particularly tied to the diurnal cycle. With Sisters spread all over the globe, some of us are always awake, and some of us are always asleep.

Misaka-19203 has postulated the question of whether any of us will ever dream of an electric ovine. The general consensus is that, given time, it is probable that we will. Even if the majority of our dreams are of being killed, or the things that other Sisters are doing, we still individually dream, and such a dream is not improbable. After all, we dream of electric humans frequently. Because that is what we are.

It took forty-three seconds to discover the location of a shop which was still open and which sold electrical goods of the nature I desired. However, I was immediately faced with the concern of the Network, because it was located within one of the areas forbidden to us by Misaka Mikoto.

This was a subject of great concern to us. Our gene-source has shown great concern for our safety and well-being. We are thankful for her actions. When she tells us not to go near Tokiwidai Middle School, or enter certain specified Judgement districts, or approach a certain individual known to her and identified to us as Shirai Kuroko, she must have a good reason for such a strong warning. Given our experience of high Level individuals in Academy City, that logically means that the individual known to be a Level Four would consider killing us to achieve an increase in rank, and that our genesource would specifically warn us about her means that she is a threat of great potency.

Avoiding her was therefore sound advice.

But it was a life-or-death situation to obtain a blender. Against the majority warning of the Network, I decided to take the calculated risk that I would be able to avoid an encounter with this individual, and so placate the possible murderous intent of my housemates. They had looked very displeased when the unfortunate whirring noise and the smoke and the hot smell had occurred. In the experience of the Network, such anger among the scientists who created us was a sign of danger. It meant something had gone wrong with the experiments, and that was usually followed by an increased number of deaths over the next week.

Heh. Danger. D-anger.

However, it would be imprudent of me to not take some precautions. To that end, I first locationed a dark grey waterproof coat with a hood, and purchased it. Not only would it aid me in not getting any wetter, but a dark grey such as that would be barely visible in the limited visibility caused by the rain. The sales assistant commented that I looked like a drowned rat, which is another sign of the pandemic animal cruelty of this city.

Donning the coat, I also put on my goggles. Not only would that aid me in the detection of threats, as most humans carry mobile phones and other bits of electronic technology which are obvious when viewed through them, but they cover up more of my face, reducing the chance that I would be identified. Suitably dressed, I exited the shops, and headed to the back alleys, following the map on my phone. That was logically the safest way for me to approach the target location, as it reduced the risk of a chance encounter with the hostile.

Once I was away from the main routes, I sensibly assembled my F2000R and headed towards my location. Assault rifles are no use in an unassembled form, and I was entering a potential combat zone.

Fortunately, because I had chosen my route well through the back streets, I did not encounter any hostiles. There were some boys and girls from the various expensive schools in this area drinking from various bottles and cans in a bike shelter, but for some reason they cowered and hid when I passed. That was a concerning moment, because I am aware that the schools have a minimum level of three for admission. For them to be scared might indicate that I was being tailed by the Level Four ability user who is powerful enough that a Level Five warned us about her.

However, I saw no one following me, despite my frequent checks, and so continued, in a state of heightened alertness. I was, despite polling the Network as a whole, unable to explain the actions of the youths. Maybe they were inebriated, or taking illegal drugs. Both states are highly undesirable for power users, and I made a note of their locations and their faces to report them to Judgement, only to remember that I was not meant to be here and to alert Judgement would risk my own discovery.

I will need to investigate the methods to providing anonymous tip-offs.

Having reached the alley behind my designated target, I carefully unloaded and disassembled my F2000R, making sure the safety was on and that the chamber was empty, before returning it to storage in my bag. With that done, I quickly got into the dry area with a positive feeling of relief. It was not raining inside.

It seldom does.

"'I require a blender. Where are they kept?,' Misaka says frankly," I said frankly to the man behind the counter. He pointed them out, and I picked one up and took it to the counter.

"Horrible weather we're having," the shop assistant said, when I went to pay. I did not reply, because his statement was factually accurate and provided no conversational openings.

"So, not having to buy any replacement bulbs this time?" he asked.

"'No,' Misaka says, somewhat confused," I said, somewhat confused by his question.

"Heh. Fair enough."

I left, returning to the rain. There was a bus stop outside, and checking it, I observed that one of the buses from it would take me to within approximately five minutes walking distance of my apartment.

Technically, it was inadvisable to take the bus. It is a known route, and is under surveillance by Judgement. It was a likely target for any planned ambush.

On the other hand, it looked like the rain was getting even heavier. I could hear thunder above.

I took the bus.

Now I am huddled by my heater next to my drying clothes, as I write this. I am wet. And cold. And the towels are not drying me fast enough. It is unpleasant enough that the Network is shunning my sensory feed.

I do not like rain. Or coconut shells.


	6. Chapter 6

**Entry 6**

It is 23:37, according to the clock on my bedside table.

The concept of time being broken up into neat hours and minutes in time zones is nonsensical. There is a member of the Network in every time zone on Earth, which means several of my Sisters are located on islands in the Pacific. Like Misaka-10901. Who is in Hawaii. Drinking drinks made out of pineapple and coconut and not being shouted at for breaking blenders.

It is still raining outside. Even without looking, I can hear the water beating down. It will be raining tomorrow according to the weather forecast. I will get wet on the way to school. And possibly splashed by buses.

Of course, until a few seconds ago, I could barely hear the rain, because Abe Eiko was playing loud music. Then Aino Sumiko started shouting at her.

I understand why Aino Sumiko might start shouting. The Network has reached a consensus that it does not like most of the music Abe Eiko does. There is too much bass, and it is repetitive; in addition, we dislike the modulation applied to the voices of the singers. Perhaps we would enjoy it more if I was not hearing it through my wall. We are not sure if I would appreciate it more if I was in the same room.

There is a glass of water on my bedside table. It vibrates when she plays music. It also vibrates when she jumps around on her bed singing.

I will need to buy noise-cancelling headphones. Being expected to 'look after myself' is expensive and requires thought which the Network has never before experienced and so there is no established precedent for what to do or how to do it. It was also not included in our TESTAMENT mindstate initialisations. This was an oversight. It was easier when the scientists purchased everything we required in batch lots.

Now both of them, as well as the speaker system, have gone quiet. I would have preferred that, except now I can hear the rain. Maybe I could get up and ask them to start shouting again, but more quietly this time. That would be an acceptable compromise from what I understand of their interactions, because Abe Eiko does not like being shouted at, but Aino Sumiko likes shouting at her.

Maybe they should compromise.

I have been told that learning to compromise is an important part of socialisation. It is a shame that my flatmates have not learned it themselves, when the chronological boundaries of their personal experience encompass a period of time an order of magnitude longer than mine. But then again, the scientists were not good at compromise either. They just told us what to do and we obeyed. The Accelerator was even worse at compromise. He never let us kill him back, no matter how many times he killed us.

Maybe compromise is an idealisation in real human interactions. It is a shame. It works adequately when there is a disagreement on the Network.

I will go talk to them and point out that they should compromise. I will be able to tell my assigned mental health professional that I am 'making an effort' to 'get along'. That will make her happy, too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Entry 7**

I did not get as far as the room of Abe Eiko, because I walked into Aino Sumiko before I got there. She is short and exists below my eye level.

"Ow," she said.

"'Ow,' Misaka also says," I also said, because it was the expected thing to do. I was not actually hurt. In the time I have known her, observed evidence suggests that the person she is most capable of hurting is herself.

She glared at me. She is a person who glares a lot. "Were you also coming to tell Eiko to turn that rubbish down?" she asked. "Because I've already seen to it."

"'The music was quite loud,' Misaka observes quietly," I observed, being careful not to raise my voice. Raised voices are often a sign of anger. Except when they are a sign of happiness. Or excitement.

It is very confusing.

Aino Sumiko puffed out her cheeks. "It certainly was," she said, squaring her shoulders. "She keeps on doing it! And has been doing it for weeks! Seriously, we should have a house talk with her!"

I am not sure how we are meant to have a house talk with her. Houses cannot talk. Perhaps she means something else by that.

"In fact," she said, "stay right here! I'm going to get Kyoko!"

I waited. It did not take long before she returned trailing a damp girl dressed mostly in towels.

"I w-was drying my hair, and then I was just about to go to bed" Koizumi Kyoko said. She was leaving damp footprints behind her. I sympathised with her. It is very wet outside. It is not pleasant. "C-couldn't this wait?"

We have noticed that Koizumi Kyoko speaks with a stammer. We know a speech therapist. Maybe she would appreciate it if I referred her, we have concluded. It is something to consider, because if she views us as a friend, she would be less likely to kill me.

"No, it can't wait!" Aino Sumiko insisted. "We have had it up to here with her loud music!"

"I w-wouldn't… um… can't we at least let me get dre-"

"'Up to where?' Misaka asks curiously," I asked, curious about where the 'it' is that she has had 'it' up to. Is 'it' a relative or absolute measurement? If 'it' is absolute, perhaps that is why Aino Sumiko has a short temper. She is short, and a level of 'it' which is acceptable to me is intolerable for her.

She ignored both of us. "It is totally not acceptable to be playing loud music past ten," she said. "It's way too late, and we have school tomorrow! Come on!" She knocked loudly on the door until Abe Eiko opened it.

For someone complaining about loud music, she is very loud.

Aino Sumiko put her hands on her hips. They are not very prominent. "Miss Abe," she said, affecting a formal register, "we have come here to have a face-to-face meeting with you. All three of us."

Abe Eiko had a strange expression on her face, which I did not understand. She looked at me, and then at Koizumi Kyoko, who was still trying to hold up her towel, and then grinned widely. "Wow, all three of you swing that way? Hot," she said.

It was not hot. However, Aino Sumiko did go very red in the face, so perhaps she was wearing warmer clothes than me. I could not tell if Koizumi Kyoko displayed the same symptoms, because she was already red in the face. That is strange, because she was wet and towels are not substitutes for warm clothing.

"Stop doing that!" Aino Sumiko shouted. "Seriously! You just can't play loud music past… it's almost midnight!"

"And you've already screamed at me once today so… ohh! Oooh! Are you going to get tomorrow's screaming done early?" Abe Eiko said. I would not agree with that. I would not describe what Aino Sumiko does as screaming. It is shouting. Screaming sounds different.

"'I came to ask if you had some headphones,' Misaka says evasively," I lied. "'The rain is too loud outside, and I am trying to get to sleep. You are clearly not using your headphones,' she adds, telling the truth," I added, using factual statements to obfuscate my falsehoods.

That was an improved plan. With headphones, I would be able to block out the sound of the rain and the music alike, and would also be able to leave and go back to my room. This is called 'thinking on your feet'. I am indeed standing up.

"See!" Abe Eiko said, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to her. I am not sure what she was trying to do there, but I was already regretting not having a combat knife on me. "Misaka's just here to borrow something and possibly talk about music! Sure, come in, come in! I've got plenty of spare headphones, though some of them are a bit broken."

"If you have headphones," Aino Sumiko hissed, "why don't you use them?"

"Bass. Duh."

"That's not a legitimate-" and that was all I heard before I was pulled into her bedroom.

The Network was interested to discover what the inside of another girl's bedroom looked like. We are collecting data to find out what is considered necessary purchases. We have concluded that television is not an accurate data source, because bedrooms in television lack a wall to allow the long-angle shots to be filmed. That makes the veracity of the information provided doubtful.

Her bedroom was messy. There were discarded clothes piled up on the floor, and plates on her desk. The Network has a firm consensus that such a manner of decoration is not optimal. It is not hygienic. It would also explain why there were no clean plates in the kitchen in the apartment.

There were lots of posters up on the walls. Some of them were secured in a manner which violated the rules for how we were allowed to attach wall decorations. All of them were either brightly coloured, or used lots of black. Black is a tone, not a colour.

"'I would like to borrow the headphones, Abe Eiko, and then I will leave,' Misaka says," I said. "'I am tired and want to go to bed,' she adds, yawning," I added, before yawning.

"Look," she said to me, smiling, "I've told you before; just call me Eiko. We're friends, right?"

I do not know if we are friends. I have not had a friend before. On polling the Network, consensus was not reached on whether she is a friend. However, there is a general suspicion that four days is not enough to count someone as a friend, especially when we have not exchanged many words or undergone a dramatic and narratively important 'bonding experience'. This has been gathered from television and films.

She may be trying to get me to let my guard down. She has already lured me into her room when I am not equipped with my F2000-R. I polled the Network for suggestions on an easily concealable auxiliary weapon, and was reminded that our Electromaster power can be used to incapacitate human beings through touch. The minority opinion is that we would still feel more comfortable with some manner of weapon.

Living with other people is a cause of stress.

"So," she said, digging through a pile of clothing and electronics on the floor, "what do you think of C-Nife, then?"

"'Of what?' Misaka asks, confused by the non-sequitur," I asked. I was confused by the way that the comment was not related to the rest of our conversation.

"Oh, man, haven't you heard of them? They're playing at the L3 Centre weekend after next. I have a ticket to go see them! Hayakami Kei is so cute! I'd like to share a duet with him, know what I mean?"

I did not know what she meant. "'I have not heard any of their music,' Misaka says, before pausing and tilting her head. 'Unless that was the noise coming through the wall,' she adds, in the interests of accuracy," I said.

"Nah, that was JuuFor. They're more electro-pop than C-Nife, although some of their earlier albums were a bit derivative. Of course, if you ask me-"

I had not asked her. That did not prevent her from continuing. I will not transcribe the contents of our conversation to my diary for the following reasons;

a) I did not understand all of it.  
b) A full copy exists on the Network  
c) It is late.  
d) My hand is getting sore from too much writing.

It was very long, however. She felt it necessary to give an in depth summary of modern Japanese music, in more detail than Misaka-11492 could obtain from various websites. We have added this to our collective information about the world. We do not see how it could be useful, but a minority opinion has already arisen that the Testament memory package did not provide us with the full set of skills to handle human society. Therefore we require more information. About everything.

Then she gave me a USB stick loaded up with music files she had copied from an external hard drive.

"'I do not know what to say,' Misaka says," I said. This was entirely outside my experience and I do not know how to respond to it. The Network is still not sure why people act in the way they do.

Eiko smiled at me. "Oh, nice to see someone else appreciates this kind of thing. I've tried to lend the others some of my music, but they just don't seem to want it, you know?" she said. "Feel free to ask for more. Us Child Errors got to stick together, right?"

She was correct. I had made the mistake of touching her desk and it was sticky.

It would not be legal to play this illegally shared music, however. I also suspect that she did not pay for it in the first place. That would be in line with her attitude to purchases and vending machines.

I managed to leave her room un-murdered after that, and now I am writing this before I go to bed. The headphones are blocking out the sound of the rain. I am tired, and I start school for the first time tomorrow. But at least I am dry. For now.

The probability is that I will be rained on in the morning.


End file.
